


I Deserve It

by Attenia



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Gen, Out of Character Legolas Greenleaf, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2020-05-29 13:18:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19401103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Attenia/pseuds/Attenia
Summary: Legolas is captures by orcs, and by the time Aragorn rescues him, they've managed to convince the prince that he deserves all of the pain and suffering they've been giving him. Aragorn tries to stop his best friend enforcing those ideas on his own body, but he's fighting a losing battle. OOC Legolas. Trigger warnings for self-harm





	I Deserve It

Legolas  
“Say it,” the orc snarled.   
Legolas kept his mouth stubbornly shut. He wouldn’t say it, no matter how they hurt him.  
“You deserve this.” As it spoke, the orc ran its blade slowly down the prince’s chest. Legolas managed to keep the grimace off his face, glaring at the foul creature. He knew that it was only a matter of time before Estel rescued him.  
“What’s taking so long!”  
Legolas closed his eyes for a moment, but then forced them open again, unwilling to show any sign of weakness. He didn’t know the man’s name, but it was obvious he commanded the orcs.  
“He is stubborn, master.” The orc stepped back, bowing as the man strode up to Legolas.  
“Then push him harder! I told you, I want to be able to break elves, to plant our own ideas in their heads. That’s what I keep you around for. If you can’t get this right, then I have no use for you.”  
“Yes, master.”  
“Hurry up, we need to move soon, or we’ll be discovered. No doubt his people are looking for him.”  
The man strode away again, leaving Legolas alone with the orc. As always, after its master visited, the orc redoubled its efforts. Legolas couldn’t help crying out as it made a long gash down his cheek.   
That wasn’t what worried him most, though. They were moving, which meant it would be even harder for Estel to find him. He didn’t know how long he could hold on under this kind of torture.  
To his surprise, the orc stopped after a moment and undid the shackle holding his left wrist. The orc pushed a blade into Legolas’ hand.  
“Go on. You deserve the pain. Give it to yourself.”  
Was the creature insane? Did it really think Legolas would attack himself rather than it? In answer, he lunged, aiming for its throat, but the orc was ready and stepped back.   
“Fine, be stubborn then. We’ll see how you like this.”  
The next thing he knew, Legolas’ hand was in shackles again, and the orc was forcing some foul concoction down his throat. His head immediately started swimming, and he was looking at the world through a fuzzy lens.   
“You deserve this.”  
He blinked at the orc as it started cutting him again. Legolas automatically tried to get away from the pain, but was stymied by the chains he’d momentarily forgotten had existed.   
“You deserve the pain, the suffering.”  
No, that wasn’t true, because… Legolas came up blank. He was sure that there was a reason the orc was wrong, but for the life of him, he couldn’t think of it past the fuzziness in his head.  
“Say it.”  
When he hesitated, the orc stabbed him in the thigh. “Say it!”  
Legolas couldn’t think. Everything before him was shimmering, and he couldn’t grasp any thought other than wanting the pain to end. Slowly, he said the words, testing them in his mind, trying to find something to tell him they weren’t true. “I… deserve this.”

Aragorn  
Aragorn was frantic. He’d been searching for a month, and he still hadn’t found Legolas. He’d picked up the trail again only this morning, after a week of searching for it. Whoever had his friend, they kept moving, making finding them a time-consuming task.  
He crept forward, keeping to the shadows. There, that light in the distance. Surely, it had to be a campfire. As he got closer, Aragorn was met with the foul sound of the black speech. What he saw as he made his way toward them wasn’t encouraging.   
There were at least twenty orcs that he could see, which meant there could be up to twenty more inside the hastily made dwelling they were guarding. The original party that had captured Legolas must have joined up with reinforcements.  
That was too many for him to take on alone. He didn’t know what state Legolas was in, but after being a captive of orcs for so long, he had to assume that his friend couldn’t walk, at the very least. That meant Aragorn had to kill all of the orcs or risk being run down by them if he simply tried to snatch his friend and escape.  
Though his every instinct was screaming at him to dash in and grab Legolas at once, he forced himself to sit still, watching. The orcs were drinking, filling their cups from a large barrel of what he assumed to be wine or ale, judging by how the creatures were swaying as they walked.   
That gave Aragorn an idea. He slowly moved away and started searching. It didn’t take long for him to find what he needed. The gvrin leaves were plentiful in this area, and mild enough that the taste shouldn’t be noticeable if mixed in with alcohol.  
It took less than an hour to grind up enough of the leaves to kill a party of orcs twice the size of the one he was facing. Aragorn waited for an opportunity, and crept close to the wine barrel, sticking to the shadows. While the orcs were distracted by one of the multiple fights that always seemed to start when the creatures were drunk, he swiftly lifted the lid and dropped in the poison.  
Now, there was nothing he could do but wait.  
Aragorn retreated a safe distance away and tried to rest, but sleep wouldn’t come, not that he’d really expected it to. When dawn finally started to lighten the sky, it arrived silently. There was no noise from the camp, and as he got closer, Aragorn started finding dead orc bodies.  
He kept his sword out. After all, he couldn’t be certain that all of them had drank from the barrel.  
Fortunately for him, it seemed they had, because he didn’t find a single orc alive. There was one man among the bodies, but the rest were all orcs.  
“Legolas?” he called out cautiously. No response. Aragorn searched the structure and quickly found a locked room; this place was roughly built and not that big. He kicked the door down and hurried inside.  
In the corner, Legolas was curled into a small ball. He was filthy and covered in blood, but he was breathing.  
“Mellon nin,” Aragorn sighed in relief. “I am so sorry it took me so long. Your captors are dead, you are safe now.”  
Legolas stared up at him, not saying anything. Aragorn carefully pulled his friend into a hug, being mindful that the prince was injured. “I’m so relieved to find you alive. Where are you hurt?”  
Still, the elf was silent.  
“Legolas? You are worrying me, please say something.”  
Aragorn pulled back to look at his friend, who had remained limp in the embrace without returning it.   
The prince was frowning, as though confused about something. “You… came to rescue me?”  
“Of course I did, you didn’t think I’d leave you?”   
Slowly, Legolas nodded. “I deserve the pain.”  
What had they done to him?  
“You do not deserve it,” Aragorn said firmly. “Come on, let’s get you out of here. I want to be away from this area in case anyone returns to it.”  
He held out his hand, and Legolas took it, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet, where he swayed slightly, but managed to stay standing. Aragorn didn’t like how passive Legolas was, just following instructions as though in a trance.   
That was something to figure out once they were safe, though. He found Legolas’ weapons among the orcs’ things and led the prince back to his campsite. Then he spent about an hour concealing their tracks and putting branches up around their shelter. No one would find them here.   
Finally, he turned back to Legolas. “Where are you injured, mellon nin?”  
Legolas shrugged.  
“I guess I’ll see for myself,” Aragorn murmured. Legolas didn’t protest to being examined – in fact he didn’t say anything at all. Aragorn was growing more and more concerned by the moment. What had happened to his friend?   
He found a number of unhealed wounds, mostly cuts from knives. First, Aragorn heated water for a bath, and tenderly cleaned the elf, wiping away all dirt and dried blood. Legolas sat blankly as the man stitched and bandaged him, finally tucking him into a spare bedroll.  
Aragorn lay down facing his friend. “Legolas?” He waited for the prince’s eyes to meet his. “What happened?”  
“I… they showed me.”  
“What did they show you, gwador?”  
“The truth.”  
He didn’t like the sound of that. “What truth would that be?”  
“That I deserve the pain.”  
Not this again. “You do not deserve pain,” Aragorn told him. “Why would you think that?”  
Legolas didn’t answer, but stared straight ahead, his eyes far away. Aragorn didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know how to help Legolas when the prince was so unresponsive and uncommunicative. Clearly, they’d put him through some kind of mental torture, convincing him that he deserved pain, but how in the world was Aragorn supposed to reverse it?  
“Tomorrow, we head for the palace,” he decided. Thranduil might know what to do for his son, and if not, they could always send for Elrond. “We’re only a few days out, at least.”  
Legolas didn’t respond. Aragorn sighed got some travel rations out of his pack. “Here.” He handed over some lembas and a water skin. Legolas took them and stared down at them, unmoving.  
“You need to eat and drink,” Aragorn prompted.  
At these words, Legolas did as he was told. Aragorn would have almost preferred it if his friend protested. This blind following of orders was unnerving, especially for someone as stubborn as Legolas.   
There was little more he could do tonight. Aragorn banked the fire and moved his bedroll slightly closer to his friend’s. “Sleep, Legolas,” he murmured. It didn’t take long for the elf’s eyes to glaze over, and Aragorn shortly followed him into sleep.  
When he woke, Legolas was no better. The prince would follow instructions, but getting anything else out of him was near impossible. Aragorn unwound the bandages he’d placed the previous night, checking the wounds.  
On getting to Legolas’ arms, he stopped short. There were three more deep slashes, ones Aragorn was sure hadn’t been there the previous night. These were outside the bandaging, and he knew he’d stitched and covered every single one of his friend’s wounds.  
“Legolas? What happened?”  
“I deserve it.”  
Aragorn’s heart sank. “Did you do this to yourself?”  
“My masters are not here to do it for me, so I must.”  
The man blinked back tears as he pulled his friend into a hug. “You must not hurt yourself, mellon nin, do you understand?”  
“I have to.”  
Great, where was that blind following of orders now when he could really use it?  
“You do not have to, gwador. You are worthy of love and happiness. You do not deserve pain.”  
Legolas didn’t respond, but Aragorn could see from his friend’s eyes that the prince didn’t believe him.   
“What did those orcs do to you, to convince you that you deserve this? Tell me everything, mellon nin.”  
This order, Legolas finally followed; he told his friend everything. The prince spoke in a terribly empty, emotionless voice, listing horrors that had the man wishing he could cover his ears to block out. By the end of it, Aragorn was shaking and struggling not to burst into tears. He understood, now, why Legolas believed as he did.   
The orcs had had a month to bend the elf to their will, and they’d done it well. Now, Aragorn was faced with the task of undoing their foul work.   
“Legolas, I want you to give me your knives and quiver.”  
He’d expected a fight, but Legolas handed them over without complaint. Aragorn took his friend’s hand and squeezed it encouragingly. “We’ll work this out, mellon nin. First, let’s just get to the palace.”  
By the time they arrived at Greenwood palace, Aragorn was at his wit’s end. No matter what he did, he couldn’t convince Legolas that he didn’t deserve pain and suffering. Worse, he couldn’t stop his friend from enforcing those ideas on his own body.   
Aragorn kept a careful watch on both his and Legolas’ weapons, but there were too many sharp rocks and stones in the forest to stop his friend from using them to hurt himself. He only hoped that things would get better once they got to the palace.  
Thranduil ran forward to meet them as they entered, his eyes fixed on his son. Legolas didn’t react to his father’s embrace or words of affection; he just stared forward, his eyes unfocused.  
“What’s wrong with him?” Thranduil demanded.  
“Let’s go somewhere private, hir nin, and I’ll explain.”  
By the time he was done explaining, Thranduil looked like he might faint, but his voice was steady. “We will put a stop to this, Estel. We have enough guards to watch Legolas at every moment. We’ll have anything that has potential to be used as a weapon removed. That much, I can handle. As for the rest…”  
“I’m hoping that once he can’t hurt himself any longer, I’ll be able to make some progress with Legolas in terms of convincing himself he doesn’t deserve the pain.”  
Thranduil clasped his arm. “Thank you, Estel. Do you think we should send for your father?”  
“Let me try with Legolas on my own first. He’s in such a strange state, I’m not sure how well he’ll react to new people.”  
Aragorn took Legolas’ arm and started leading the unprotesting prince to his chambers. Thranduil had the guards run ahead to remove anything sharp, and ordered that someone should guard the doors day and night.  
Legolas sat down on the bed at their urging, and Aragorn managed to shoo Thranduil out, not wanting the prince to have to deal with more people right now.  
“Legolas?” He tilted the elf’s chin up, forcing his friend to look at him. “Please speak to me.”  
“I am fine, Estel.”  
Right, so that approach wasn’t working. Aragorn tried another one. “You are not going to be able to hurt yourself anymore. Your father has committed as many of his guards as necessary to see to it.”  
That got a reaction, but not the one he was expecting – fear. Legolas flinched and scrambled back on the bed, as though honestly expecting to be struck.  
“Mellon nin, what is it?”  
“I have to,” Legolas whispered. “If I don’t, someone else will.”  
“I do not understand, gwador. We are in your father’s palace. None here would hurt you.”  
“They will. I deserve it. If I do not see to my own punishment, others will.”  
“Who, mellon nin? Who, exactly, are you afraid of hurting you?”  
Legolas shook his head, his eyes wide, his whole body trembling. Obviously, the orcs managed to firmly implant this idea in his mind, no matter how irrational it was.  
“Do… do you think I’ll hurt you?” Aragorn asked hesitantly, not sure he wanted to know the answer.  
The prince met his eyes, and slowly shook his head.   
Well, at least that was something. “What about your father?”  
Legolas shrugged, suddenly not willing to meet Aragorn’s eyes. “I deserve it,” he said quietly.   
The torture he’d endured must have been vile indeed for Legolas to doubt his father’s love. Thranduil had always done everything to protect his son. Aragorn supposed he should just be grateful that the prince trusted him.  
“Alright, then, here’s what we’re going to do. You and I are going to find a place in the forest that only we know about, and we’re going to build a flet there, then once that’s done, we’ll build a small dwelling on top of it. Only the two of us will know where it is. Whenever you’re worried someone might hurt you, you can go there, ok?”  
Legolas considered this for a minute. “Ok,” he said quietly.   
“There’s a condition. While you’re there, you cannot hurt yourself. Otherwise no deal.”  
“Ok.”  
The prince was starting to withdraw into his expressionless blank state again, but Aragorn was glad for what little progress they’d made.   
“We’ll start on that tomorrow, but for now, I want you to rest. You’ve lost a lot of blood, and your body still hasn’t recovered. I’m going to stay here with you, alright?”  
Legolas nodded and lay down in bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. Aragorn wriggled in beside him, letting his weary eyes close. There was nothing sharp here, and the guards would stop Legolas from leaving. It had been exhausting, having his friend’s wellbeing resting solely on his shoulders. Now, he finally let himself relax, at least enough to get to sleep.  
Aragorn was woken by the movement of the bed shaking slightly. It took him a moment to figure out that the shakes were coming from Legolas. The prince was facing away from him, his whole body trembling violently as he tried to choke back sobs.   
“Legolas! Mellon nin, what is it?”  
Aragorn quickly rolled his friend over, but Legolas flinched at his touch. “Gwador, it is me, Estel. You know I will not hurt you.”  
Once Legolas realized who he was, the prince held out his arms piteously, and Aragorn pulled him into a tight embrace. “Tell me what is wrong,” he murmured.   
“H-help – me – E-Estel,” Legolas gasped between sobs.   
“What do you need?”   
“C-cut – deserve – h-h-hurt –”  
“You are not cutting yourself anymore, mellon nin, we’ve discussed this.”  
Legolas flinched again, tensing in his arms. “They’ll – h-hurt – p-please – can’t –”  
“No one is going to hurt you,” Aragorn assured him. “I am here, I will protect you.”  
He leaned back a little to look into his friend’s face, and was shocked by what he saw. Legolas was terrified. The prince was paler than Aragorn had ever seen him, and it wasn’t just sobs that was shaking his body. He was literally trembling in fear, convinced that he would be tortured unless he hurt himself.  
Aragorn was becoming more alarmed by the moment as he tried to comfort his friend. “Ssh, it’s ok, it’s ok,” he said softly, rocking the distraught elf. Legolas clung to him and seemed to take comfort in his touch, but he was still tensed with fear.   
“Hush, just sleep, I will protect you.”  
When Legolas didn’t calm, Aragorn tried to disentangle himself from the prince, which only resulted in Legolas doubling his bruising grip. “Let me go for a moment, I’m only getting something from the other side of the room.”  
Legolas did as he was told, but by the time Aragorn came back to the bed, the prince was frozen in terror. Truly frozen – it took the man at least half an hour to work his limbs back into a natural position. When he could finally move normally, Legolas curled his fingers into Aragorn’s tunic, pulling him close.  
“Mellon nin, look. Here is my sword, and I’m going to keep it right by the bed for the rest of the night. I won’t sleep either, I will stay awake and watch over you. Anything that comes through that door is going to have to go through me to get to you, and I promise you, no one who wants to hurt you will get past me still breathing. You trust me, don’t you?”  
Still crying too hard to speak, Legolas nodded.   
“Then relax, gwador. Just sleep. Tomorrow, we will start working on a place that only we know of. I know you do not believe me right now, but I promise, no one here means to hurt you, nor do you deserve to be hurt. You will see that in time.”  
Legolas shook his head mutely, but his trembling had at least decreased a bit. Aragorn held him close and started singing an old Elvish lullaby, hoping it would soothe his friend. It took nearly two hours, but eventually, the prince drifted off.  
The next morning was better and worse. It was better because Legolas had lost that awful blankness that had been haunting him since his rescue. It was worse because the prince was suddenly as jumpy as an anxious rabbit, even shying away from his father.   
“Please, Estel,” he whispered. “Just a few cuts, to make me safe. Only a few.”  
“You do not need that to be safe,” Aragorn told him firmly. “You are safe here, I will protect you.”  
“I deserve it.”  
“You do not deserve it, mellon nin.”  
“I want it.”  
That brought him up short. “What?”  
“I…” Legolas stared at the ground. “It makes me feel – lighter, I guess. Happy.”  
Aragorn barely managed to suppress a groan. Legolas getting hooked on the pain was the last thing they needed right now. He’d read accounts of patients who became addicted to the rush they got from hurting themselves, and it he didn’t want his friend getting pulled into that. Once started, such things often couldn’t be stopped.  
“I will find other ways to make you happy,” Aragorn promised. “Come, I had the guards prepare a wagon of supplies for us.”  
Legolas stuck close to his side as they walked through the halls, more like Aragorn’s shadow than the friend he knew. Two horses were already attached to the wagon, and Aragorn had Legolas sit beside him as the left the palace grounds.  
“Which way?” he asked cheerfully.  
“West.”  
It was a good choice. The western reaches of the forest were too deep and dense to allow for easy travel, and there were few spiders there.   
“West it is.”  
“What about our tracks? The wagon leaves a path as plain as day.”  
He hadn’t thought about that. “Are you ok to drive the wagon? I can go behind, covering our tracks.”  
Legolas nodded, seemingly a lot calmer now that no one else was around. They spent the better part of the morning finding the perfect spot, and the rest of the day building a basic flet.  
“Well, it’s a start,” Aragorn said, sipping water from a skin as he leaned back against the tree trunk. “You can relax here, mellon nin. No one will hurt you.”  
“I still want to cut.”  
“Because you think you deserve it, or because it makes you feel good?”  
“Both,” Legolas admitted.   
Aragorn put an arm around him. “I understand, but mellon nin, please do not do that. I realize that if we’re going to be alone here, I can’t watch you carefully enough to stop you from finding something sharp, but I need you to trust me. This is not something you want to get hooked into. Saes, Legolas, if you feel you can’t resist any longer, come to me. I will help you.”  
“I trust you, Estel… It’s just hard. My mind is telling me different things than you are.”  
“You cannot trust your mind right now, not until the foul things those orcs taught you have been expelled. You know that they are responsible for this, don’t you?”  
Legolas nodded slowly. “I remember them making me say it – I deserve this – over and over. I resisted at first, but when they gave me the potion, it made everything too confusing. I didn’t know what was true and what wasn’t… but my brain is still telling me that I deserve pain.”  
“You do not, Legolas. You are my best friend, and you bring so much light into my life. You have never done anything that justifies hurting you.”  
“I want to believe you, Estel – I just can’t.”  
“Well, you want to, and that’s a start. Just promise you’ll keep talking to me.”  
Legolas gave him a faint smile. “I don’t need to promise that – you’ll drag it out of me, no matter how hard I try to keep my thoughts to myself.”  
“True,” Aragorn chuckled. “I’d appreciate the promise just the same.”  
“Then I promise, Estel.”  
Aragorn gave his friend’s hand an encouraging squeeze. “Thank you, mellon nin. You will not regret it.”

Legolas  
One month later  
Legolas clenched his hands, trying to focus on the meeting. The itch to cut himself was back.  
I don’t deserve it. I don’t need it. No one is going to punish me for not doing it.  
He repeated the mantra over and over again in his head as Estel had taught him, and it helped somewhat, but today, the urge to hurt himself was stubborn and resisted being talked away. At least now, after weeks of coaching from Estel, he believed the words.  
Of course, Estel noticed his distress. Displaying an complete lack of subtlety, the man stood up in the middle of the meeting, interrupting Thranduil, causing a couple of scandalized gasps from the counsellors.  
“Legolas and I need to go now.”  
“Estel, I’m fine,” Legolas muttered, his face burning with embarrassment.  
His friend ignored him and turned to Thranduil. “Hir nin?”  
“Go, Legolas,” Thranduil said firmly.   
“Ada, I don’t need –”  
“Estel is the healer, he knows better than you, ion nin. Estel, take him.”  
“No.” Legolas glared at the man. He wasn’t going to get up. This had been going on long enough, he should be stronger than this by now.  
To his utter outrage, Estel grabbed him around the waist and threw Legolas over his shoulder.  
“Let go of me, you stinking human!”  
The guards moved forward, but Thranduil gestured them back. Legolas spared his father a glare as Estel carted him out.  
“We’ve been through this,” the man explained patiently. “When you’re struggling, we go to our safe house. You know what happens if you don’t, mellon nin.”  
Legolas did know. That was when he slipped, and if he cut once, it was that much harder to resist it again. He wasn’t in the mood to grant that point right now, though.  
“Let me down!”  
Legolas struggled fiercely, but Estel simply got a better grip on him and started jogging. By the time they were on Estel’s horse, Legolas was glowering at his friend. The man simply held tightly to his waist, not letting Legolas escape.  
The prince kept up a steady stream of grumbled complaints all the way to their treehouse, only stopping when Estel finally dragged him up and pushed him onto the soft rug. The man stood over him with a smug smile.  
“Say it. I was right.”  
“You were right,” Legolas muttered sourly. He already felt better. This place had been his sanctuary when he was at his most terrified and hopeless. “You only managed to drag me out of there because I was distracted.”  
“Of that, I have no doubt. You think I’d be stupid enough to try something like that with you in full fighting form? I value my fingers, thanks.”  
“Hey, that was an accident! I never meant to break your finger, you were supposed to let go!”  
Estel flopped down on the rug next to him, laughing. “I know, gwador, I know. That doesn’t mean I’m going to stop teasing you about it, though.”  
Legolas just shook his head. “How long do I have to stay here, then, oh jailor of mine?”  
“Take that tone and I’ll have us holed up here for a week.”  
Legolas raised his hands in mock-surrender. He wouldn’t put it past his friend to do just that, nor for his father to approve it if Estel convinced him it was for his son’s health.  
Without warning, Legolas pounced on his friend, pinning him to the ground and tickling him mercilessly. “Drag me out of a council meeting again, and you’ll get much worse,” he threatened, but he knew that Estel wouldn’t take the warning to heart, and truthfully, Legolas was glad to have a friend who would risk his wrath to make sure he was well.  
He wasn’t going to admit that much to Estel, but as his friend giggled and tried to twist away, Legolas was sure that Estel already knew.


End file.
